


Things you can't erase

by sinisterkid92



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fix-it fic, Post-Finale Fic, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinisterkid92/pseuds/sinisterkid92
Summary: It’s three weeks after Flynn died, and Rufus came back, that she realizes another absence in her life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is pure fic and not something i'd want in the finale, because I hate pregnancy in canon, esp how they did it, but it's a fanfic WHERE THIS SHIT BELONGS

It’s three weeks after Flynn died, and Rufus came back, that she realizes another absence in her life. Between settling into her life again, starting the search for a new job and trying to find a plausible excuse for her 3 year absence, it was easy to forget certain things. Sometimes, she forgot he wasn’t there anymore. When she woke up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning and aching, she was about to get out of bed to find him. To talk, like they always did. He rarely slept so she’d always find him awake with a book in his hand.

Life with Wyatt was a bit like she had wanted it to be. Calm, regular, and domestic. Part of her was restless, unused to the slow-paced regular life that she once had had, but she didn’t dare to speak of it. This was what she wanted, was it not? Normal? Why did it feel off, like a shoe she had outgrown that pinches her toes as she walked?

Three weeks wasn’t enough time to excuse the restlessness. It was too soon and she felt guilty whenever she looked for escape routes and things that would insert action into her life again. She just needed to keep busy, to fill the holes that could not be filled. Fill them with artificial momentary quick happiness that filtered through the holes of her being and then left her feeling just as empty at the end of the day.

She felt guilty, because Wyatt was with her and just weeks ago she’d declared her love for him. But it wasn’t enough, loving someone. It wasn’t her whole life and it could not be. There was more to be wanted, to experience, to be had, and after everything she’d gone through and all she had lost… not being completed from love felt like a betrayal. 

Three weeks was what it took. Almost four weeks since Jiya was kidnapped, since she tried to kill Emma, since Rufus was killed. Three weeks since Rufus came back to life, since Flynn decided to take his own life without even talking to her. Deciding for her. She read the journal and she didn’t see it. Her heart was his entirely, in that timeline, but he decided for her and she was furious at him for it.

There were four stages of grief. Denial was past and gone. Denial that he would turn up somehow, denial because she said whatever they had didn’t really matter. Denial that she was okay without him. Now, it was anger because he was supposed to be in her life but he wasn’t. Anger, because he was her friend and he didn’t let her say goodbye. Anger, because all she got was a letter. She was furious and angry, because she’d already lost Amy, because she’d already lost her mom, her entire life, and then he went and killed himself without saying anything. He just left. 

She never wanted to accept it. She never wanted to be that person who was okay with what he did. 

Three weeks, two stages of grief. Two and a half weeks late. Dates were harder to keep track of with time traveling Time weaved in and out differently and between everything changing, all the time, it was easy to forgive herself for not keeping track. 

It was the notification for the doctor’s appointment that jarred her awake. The one she set up with Agent Christopher ages ago because she and Flynn were relying on condoms and she didn’t trust them entirely. The appointment she kept because she and Wyatt were now relying on the same method of contraceptives. She tracked her periods, it was a must because she hated being surprised between all the traveling, to be unprepared for what her body threw at her once a month. She’d done it for years, even through all timeline changes that app had remained on her phone with years of data stored. She had never been late, despite the stress and grief, it had always arrived on time. 

There it was. The app. 25 days overdue. 

Her heart hammered in her chest. Like an off-beat drum. 

No. She thought. She wanted to throw up. It wasn’t just a week or two, it was almost a month. How could she have forgotten? How could she have missed it?

It only happened twice, with Flynn. Once with two glasses of vodka, she excused it on that afterwards but she was barely even tipsy. The second time, the night Jiya was kidnapped. After The Civil War and Harriet Tubman. 

Almost four weeks late and it explained so much. The tiredness that lingered, the heavy feeling cramping in her lower stomach, her emotions that were haywire and always a moment away from tears. Her heavy chest, aching breasts. The mild nausea that disrupted her appetite but wasn’t much more than that. The bloating that stopped her from being able to zip her pants. All could’ve been excused as stress, as grief, as burgeoning symptoms of PTSD. It made sense. Together, pieces, it made sense. 

Holy shit.

It was hours later, by the kitchen table with three tests laid out in a row. Two lines, a cross, and a pregnant +3 weeks digital. No birth control at her appointment tomorrow, she thought. Maybe another pregnancy test, just to prove it to the doctor. She traced back her steps. 25 days late, her periods were 27 days apart, with rare exceptions. 52 days. 7 weeks and…. Two days? It was five weeks since the return from the women’s march. It was after that, that was the first time. 

She placed her hand on her lower stomach, no sign of anything happening inside her yet, just the slight bloating. Organs starting to displace. She googled it. It sounded macabre and disgusting. That’s when he walked in, spotted her at the table.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, and she tore her eyes away from the test that declared her more than three weeks post conception. She didn’t have the words, didn’t know how to tell him. That’s when he noticed. “What’s… what’s this?” He picked one of the tests up from the table, a careful smile started to grow on his face.

“I’m pregnant.” She traced the 3+ weeks letters, something heavy settling in the pit of her stomach. 

“Wow, that’s amazing Lucy!” His grin widened before he noticed that she didn’t look so happy at all about it. “I know it’s fast Lucy, and we’ve just started this relationship but… we’re going to be parents, Lucy!”

She swallowed against her tears. “I’m almost two months pregnant.” She said it fast, like it wouldn’t hurt as much if she ripped it off like a bandaid. Like he wouldn’t realize the implications of that. “I’m a month late and I didn’t realize until today when I got the reminder for the appointment to get my birth control.” She rubbed her arm. Tried to distract herself. 

“Two months?” He tried to put down the puzzle pieces, piece the information together.

“Flynn.” He put the test down again, looking them all over with an emotionless, stoic, expression. She nodded.

“Yeah.” A dead father, that was what she gifted this child. Of crouse, Wyatt could help out, maybe he would stick by her maybe he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t blame him for leaving. This baby would be all she had. Her mother dead, adopted father dead, her real father in jail, and her sister erased from the timeline. This wasn’t how she imagined it.

A summer baby, it hit her. This summer, she’d have a baby. A baby half her half Flynn. 

“We have to go back, save him,” Lucy said. “We have to bring him back.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had more ideas for this and didn't want to leave it where it was. I might add more, I might not.... it depends on if I have more ideas for this

The doctor looked disapproving. Lucy wasn’t alone in disliking visiting the doctors, and this was precisely the reason why. Finding that physician that didn’t make her feel like she was put on interrogation was a lifelong quest, one not made easier by her constant need to prove herself as good enough to everyone. Especially her mother, to whom she could never prove herself to and was always a disappointment.

Lucy squirmed under his gaze. “My last period was… December 6th.” She tucked her hands between her knees. The doctor looked up through the narrow space between the top of his glasses and his bushy eyebrows. “I took a pregnancy test yesterday, it was positive.”

“Hmm,” he noted something on the pad then pulled something out of a cupboard drawer beside him. “When was the last time you peed?”

“Uh, a few hours ago?” She dug her hands deeper between her legs. 

“In the bathroom over there,” he jerked his head towards a door half hidden behind the partition curtain, where she luckily hadn’t been asked to strip yet. “I need you to take this.” He placed the pregnancy test in front of her. Go figure, she thought.

The bathroom was about as nice as she expected it to be, considering it was booked when she was essentially living under some equivalent of a witness protection program. It was bare,had a dripping faucet, and the light made the whole room tinted in a nauseating grey-blue hue. She unzipped her jeans, breathing a sigh of relief – they’d been digging into her stomach more than usual. 

Flynn. She closed her eyes when she thought of his name. She thought about his warm hands in hers, and the mischievous smile he would crack. She smiled back at him, as he stood in the corner of the bathroom like a warm presence. He was there. Of course he was. She opened her eyes, half expecting him to – she was alone. The cold air a breeze on her bare forearms. 

“Okay then,” she said to no one, “let’s do this.” 

“September 12th,” the doctor announced. “You are 7 weeks and 3 days pregnant based on the calculations here.” He held up a rudimentary circle with dates and numbers she couldn’t quite understand what they meant. “You should set up an appointment with an OB soon, there’s quite a few things you need to go through, it’s about now you’d have the first appointment anyway but… Let’s run through some basics and get you on some prenatals.”

He gave her the options, abortion and what to do and where to go for that, and if she wanted to go through with it. First instincts were that she wanted this, but she suppose it wasn’t so simple considering the father was dead. Considering she had just returned from a 3 year absence and nothing to show for it. Then, the to-do and to-don’t list, a few pamphlets, and a “of course, there’s adoption too.”

Then there was the ultrasound. 

Lucy hated doctors. 

Leaving the doctor’s office she fished the phone out of her purse, pulling up her text history with Wyatt, reading her latest text (“going into the drs now, I’ll text you when I get out”) that he hadn’t replied to yet. She thought about calling him, that was the right thing to do, or wait until she got home. But she didn’t have the energy. Her hands were shaking. She wanted coffee.

“They confirmed it”

He’d know what she meant. 

On the way home she went to the Starbucks drive-thru and ordered a venti vanilla latte with whipped cream on top. She wanted something to happen. She wanted an escape from the mundane but not like this. Children wasn’t exactly the greatest adventure you could go on. Children was a neon slow sign, a detour and a redirect to somewhere else entirely. She took a big sip of the coffee, it burned her tongue but she didn’t even notice the sting, didn’t notice the taste of it.

September next year. She’d be heavily pregnant through the summer, not ideal but at least she lived in San Francisco which remained fairly cool. Her contract with Homeland Security had left her with a fairly good cushion money-wise, and then there was the money her mother left her. While she needed a job, she could focus on research instead, for the time-being. But, with a baby? 

She pulled into a shopping mall, not wanting to go back home and face Wyatt. Not yet. She needed to think it through more before she faced him. Of course, there was a small chance that it was actually Wyatt’s kid, before this appointment she kept hoping it would be. She could have just missed her period, and it would’ve been a lot simpler. The ultrasound told her something else entirely. The doctor had huffed, said she was actually 7 weeks and 6 days pregnant, and left it at that. 

Another big sip of the coffee and pushed the car door open. There wasn’t a lot of people there yet, a sparse number of cars. It was 10am on a January Monday morning and most people were at work, or school. 

She had insisted on the ultrasound. She’s seen that he had the equipment. It’s not what she wanted to do, the lubricant still felt icky between her legs even after wiping it off. Any doubts of who the father was had to be met. The second time she and Flynn had sex had been close to the time that she had Wyatt got together. It was a messy situation she was glad to avoid entirely.

Though, it would’ve been nice if the father of her child was still alive. 

The cup coffee had almost been drained by the time she reached the doors to the mall. That’s where she stopped. Inside she could see two moms pushing strollers, one holding a baby that Lucy guessed was between 6 or 9 months. She had no idea about babies, how they looked, what they did. She never needed to know before. Of course, she loved babies and looking at them. But she knew absolutely nothing. 

“I’m going to be a terrible mom,” she muttered to herself, throwing the rest of the coffee away with a look of disgust. She had no role model to look for. Her own mother was, in retrospect, a pretty terrible one. Even if she had been a good mother, she wasn’t around to ask for advice. To qualm fears, or to prepare her for what was to come. The one mother she knew was Agent Christopher, and after wrapping up the last details of the time travel project she’d left on vacation and wasn’t due to return for a good while. Then she’d be reassigned. They hadn’t spoken since the last debrief about two weeks ago.

Instead of going into the mall she turned around again, sat back in the car and drove home. 

Wyatt and her had moved in together immediately. She didn’t want to return to the big house her mother left her, and he didn’t have a place either. It made sense, even though it was rushed, to move in together. It was nice, too, not being alone. Not waiting around to be given the opportunity to live. Just jumping into it head first. Life was for the living, was it not?

But, something nagged at the back of her head, her life was how it was now because of Flynn and she couldn’t live with his death on her conscience. Couldn’t live knowing that she did nothing to save the father of her child's life. Couldn’t do it, the guilt was eating her up enough as it was. He wasn’t supposed to die, not without seeing his happy ending first. 

Wyatt sat by the TV when she returned, eyes staring into the middle distance as daytime TV played on the screen. She put her purse on the floor by the door – there was only sparse furniture in their small house, and she was waiting for the energy to put thought into decorating it. It was fine how it was, for now. Maybe she’d get a burst of desire to make this her home sometime, but not now. 

“Hi,” she said, leaning against the door frame into the small living room. He jerked head up to meet hers.

“Hey.” She thought about sitting down next to him, curling into his embrace and keep living life pretending. Live it easy, like she wanted to. Live in the place where boredom grabbed at her feet. Boredom, not gut wrenching grief. “How’d it go?” He must have seen her text, though she supposed that it was rather cryptic. 

“I’m… I’m pregnant.” Inside of her was a baby, maybe an inch big, maybe like her thumb? It was weird. She couldn’t see or feel it. It creeped her out. “Ultrasound says I’m 8 weeks tomorrow,” she huffed out a big breath, “due date is September 9th.” 

The sound from the TV was the only thing that filled the room. A dramatic hospital scene between two nurses. She looked away. There was a picture from the ultrasound in her purse. She’d tucked it away immediately, not yet ready to process it.

“So it’s his.” He sounded defeated, which she kind of understood given what had happened with Jessica just some weeks before. The thought of her made her stomach clench. “Fuck.” He whispered it into his hands as he rubbed his face. 

“It’s…” It felt like she was about to jump off a ledge, admit the thing she had avoided thinking about since she left the doctor’s office. “It’s twins.” Tears pressed behind her eyes. 

“Twins!?” He flew off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. “He’s fucking dead and he still… he still fucking gets it all! This is unreal,” he shouted from the kitchen. “I’m here, I’m the one who’s here and I’m the one who loves you, and he is the father to the _twins_ that you’re pregnant with.”

“It’s not like I asked for it!” she shouted back, her pulse drumming in her ears. “We used condoms, just like we do.”

“I don’t want to hear about how you and Flynn had sex, Lucy,” he shouted, appearing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room again. “He wrote you a letter, telling you to have a family, and that was supposed to be with me!”

“Well tough shit, this is how it is now.” Her chest was heaving as she struggled to fill air into her lungs. Enough air to satisfy and feed the anger that swelled inside of her. 

“He killed himself, he _left you_ , and now you want to bring him back and have his babies, I can’t believe you, that’s pathetic and you know it.” He shook his head, disappointment dripping off of him. 

“He did it so you didn’t have to, he cleaned up _your_ mess. Rufus is alive now, because of him, and no thanks to you!” 

The silence stretched between them, only the sound of heavy and barely controlled breathing between them. There was little left to be said, yet so much. They’d opened a can of worms, he had opened it. Now, she just felt betrayed. 

“We could’ve raised them like they were your own.” She picked up her purse by the door. “We could’ve been a family.” She wiped the tears that spilled from her eyes. “I was considering not doing it, not going back… because I don’t know what time traveling will do to the babies but,” she closed her eyes, peering off of the ledge in her mind as she prepared to say it, “we’re the bad guys, Wyatt. We are the ones who left him dead so that we can be happy, and I can’t live with that. Especially not if you’re going to spend the rest of your life resenting the father of my babies.”

“Lucy –” He started to walk after her. 

“No, Wyatt.” She backed away from him. “You’re not coming for this trip, and hopefully… you won’t remember this when it’s done.”

“You can’t do that Lucy, you can’t just wipe it all away.” He was pleading now, the anger dissipating as he realized he was losing her. 

“It took you not even a month, Wyatt.” She wanted to shout but instead an eerie calmness settled inside her mind. “I think this is for the best.”

She walked out the door, dialing Agent Christopher’s number. She’d cut her vacation short, but Lucy knew Christopher wouldn’t deny her this. She wouldn’t just get Flynn back, but also her sister. She was going to save the people she loved because she could. Doing anything else would make her just as bad as Rittenhouse. 

Christopher picked up the phone. “Hey Denise, it’s Lucy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but sweet end to this little story

It’s winter. She felt the a vibrancy in the air that wasn’t from the San Diego warmth. It was closer, inside of her, like a string pulled too taught that was moments away from bursting. She grit her teeth, pulling forward despite the warning signal in her head that called her back towards the lifeboat. She shook her head, as if to clear her mind of that panic that had planted itself front and center. Go back, it kept calling her, this is not safe. 

As if wading through mud she came face to face with him as he threw himself out of the lifeboat, signing his fate and death with it. Her heart dropped, leaving a bruise in its place, as the lifeboat he traveled there in vanished from this time and back into the past. Back to the wild west he left behind where Rufus would take his place, like a miracle. 

The other direction, closer to the road, she could see a pair of feet in the sand. Jessica. Her stomach turned, twisting and aching, rebelling against her as she heaved, desperate to calm herself. Jessica was, after all, another victim of Rittenhouse. Another pawn, another chess piece, another life taken away. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She read the file, the new file, and Jessica hadn’t been shot when she first died, she had been strangled. This was not how it was supposed to go. 

She ignored the vibrating air around her, the almost tinnitus in her ear that acted like a warning bell and walked towards him. He had not risen yet, still face down in the dunes. Part of her worried, worried that she was too late. Yet, she knew he did not die here, he did not die yet. They still had time. Despite that, she pulled herself forward, from the lifeboat and the string grew more taught, more fragile. The ringing in her ears, the warning panic in her head, the vibrancy, it intensified the further she walked. 

“Flynn!” she screamed. It did not sound like her. Everything inside her felt alive and broken all at once, grieving him at the same time as her heart hammered on with hope. “Flynn!”

A tired body stood. Slowly, body part by body part pulling himself up from the ground, stumbling. He was bleeding, hurt, and looked more worn that she remembered him being. His image had started to fray in her memory. Pulling apart and disappearing piece by piece. Despite it only being three months it scared her how quickly the memory of him faded. It wasn’t the touch and instinctual memory she had of her sister and mother, no she hadn’t known him long enough for that. Even without seeing her family’s face she could still piece features, create a whole. For him? She cried of relief when she saw him. 

“Lucy?” His voice was rough, the surprise catching his voice as he spoke. He stumbled down the dune towards her. He searched her face, caught on her lip that was now healed, her brow that only showed a pink and white scar now. He saw it, saw that she wasn’t the one he left, that time had gone by. “What are you doing here?” He huffed, disbelief, anger and confusion all at once. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m here for you.” She tried her best to smile but all she could do was cry. “You died.” A sob escaped her, one she didn’t expect, didn’t see coming. “You left me, you left us.”

Something settled over his eyes, a sad determined look. “I just want to see my family one more time, that’s all I want.” She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “That’s all I need, there’s nothing more for me, I can’t…” His voice shook, too weak to carry on. 

“Come back with me.” She pulled on his sleeve. “You were wrong Flynn, my heart doesn’t belong to anyone but myself and it’s only mine to give, not you.” They were both shaking their heads, angry, stubborn, neither willing to yield. 

“I just want you to be happy, Lucy.” He reached out a hand, cupping her cheek in his palm and she fit so perfectly in there, he thought. His large palm pressed against her cheek as she leaned into it, carefully touched her nose against the sensitive skin. 

“When you died I broke, Flynn.” She cupped his palm against her face, holding it close, not willing to let go. “What part of you dying is supposed to make me happy?”

“Please, Lucy,” he sobbed, moving his palm from her face to cup the back of her head, pulling her gently towards him. Close enough so that she could smell him. Smell the dirt of desert, of sweat, of him. “I just can’t do it anymore, I just want to see my family again.”

She collapsed against him, fell against his chest. This wasn’t how she wanted to say it, how she wanted him to learn the truth. She had to, though. Had to let him know and be honest with him from the start. No more lies, no more half-truths and no more barriers. 

“I’m pregnant, Flynn,” she mumbled into his coat. It was low enough that he might not have caught it, but he stiffened. She gripped the lapels of his coat, as if he was going to run away that grip would hold him there, close to her. “You’re going to be a dad again.” For all the reasons she could cry, she couldn’t identify the one that had tears streaming down her face now. It was a never ending waterfall from something deep inside of her, something scared and tiny and fragile. 

“Oh, Lucy.” He held her tighter, but said nothing more, his hand caressing her head as she buried herself into him. 

“There is so much left for you Flynn,” she sobbed into his shirt. “We took down Rittenhouse, we are free, so please come back with me.” She pulled away from him, pulling at his arms as she took a step back. “Please.”

He followed her step, watching her as he walked with her. Some reluctance was left in him, something calling him back to his family instead of with her. Despite being some week shy of 4 months she was already showing, the benefit of twins. It wasn’t a lot, if you didn’t know you could almost chalk it up to bloating, but on her small frame it was obvious. If you looked, if you knew. He gasped. There she was, pregnant with his child, bringing him back from the dead. 

“Flynn,” she said as they stopped in front of the lifeboat he’d just sent back into the past. “Please say you’re coming back with us.” She needed him, her children needed him. But most of all, he had to live. He deserved a life. Out of everyone, he deserved a life and happiness the most. Everything he had sacrificed and done for them. Even if it wasn’t with her, even if he left her behind, he deserved a life. 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.” He nodded. Before he could change his mind she climbed up into the lifeboat, pulling him along with her. Holding his hand, just in case he changed his mind, to know if he changed his mind. 

She held his hand as they sat down, as she punched in the coordinated, as he asked “is this safe for the baby?” and she reluctantly avoided answering because she didn’t know, and instead said “it’s twins,” before catapulting them back into the future.

Of all the ways she could’ve told him, that was the most unfair. But, she figured it was best to be honest upfront and let him know what to expect. Twins were another thing entirely. When they landed back in 2019 she wasn’t sure if the blood had drained from his face because of the time jump, or because of the twin news. 

Regardless, as soon as the lifeboat stilled she removed the belt and threw herself on him. It was far from gracious as she landed in his lap, her arms around him the only thing keeping her from sliding off his lap. 

Relief was the best word to describe what she was feeling, but it wasn’t enough. It was like her whole body could relax, breathe a sigh as tension dissipated. He was alive, he was in the present with her. Everything was going to be alright. 

“Open up!” Denise shouted from outside. Without removing herself from his lap she reached a hand out and slammed the button that would open the door. She wouldn’t let him go until she had to. He was here. He was here. “You found him!” Denise cheered, confirming that she had returned to a slightly altered timeline, one where he didn’t have a stroke on a beach. 

\----

It was barely dawn when she opened her eyes, catching the illuminated horizon where a sliver of light caught against the darkness. He was standing by the window with a tiny baby slumped against his chest as he rocked back and forth, humming an off-tune melody. Her heart swelled, swelled more than it had earlier in the day when she met her children for the first time. Each minute she expanded, her heart and her capability of loving, expanded more than she ever thought possible. 

He caught her moving and looked over at her, a tired smile meeting hers. This was just the beginning of tired, and her whole body hummed at that knowledge. 

“Lincoln was fed up with sleeping for a while,” he said, walking towards her slowly and sat down at the edge of the bed. “She likes walking,” he chuckled. “A lot like her big sister.”

“Eleanor?” she looked across the room to the sleeping baby in her cot.

“Eleanor likes her sleep,” he chuckled. “Like her mom.” She rolled her eyes at him, but reached for the half awake baby in his arms, yearning to hold her after spending so much time away from her. It had only been three hours of sleeping but it felt far too long. 

“Hey Link,” she greeted, for the second time in a day. She leaned forward to kiss the baby’s head softly. “I can’t wait to show you and your sister the world.”


End file.
